Fairy Tales Are For Suckers
by Kat J
Summary: (Jason/Elizabeth) It doesn't have to be a fairy tale for there to be a happy ending.


I disclaim any rights to the characters owned by GH, the network or whatever. 

This is just something that came to me when I was writing something else. It's a little different than anything I've written I think, so I hope you all like it. :P

* * *

Fairy Tales Are For Suckers

___________________________

I don't tell a lot of people this story. Frankly sometimes, looking back, I can't believe it really is true. You see, this tale is about a love story that wasn't perfect

at all and almost never happened. There isn't a prince or an evil step-mother or even a fire-breathing dragon. Like I always say, fairy tales are for suckers. Don't be mistaken though, just because there is none of that sissy stuff, doesn't mean there aren't plenty of good things. There's a heartless villain, plenty of action and gore to keep you interested, but there's also love. Lots and lots of gooey, mushy love stuff that my sister and her friends swoon over. So no, this isn't a fairly tale, this is real. As real as it gets. There's just a woman not a princess and a man not a prince and a piece of red glass.  
  


His name was Mr. Morgan and I was too young and too fascinated at the time to really piece together what that name meant. Even though my mother strictly forbade me to talk to him, to look at him, to even walk on the same sidewalk as him, I did. I did all those things and to this day I'm glad I did. Because what I discovered was something you only see in movies. Only it was better. And I'm not talking about sappy chick flicks. No way! I hate chick flicks. I hate weepy eyed women that spend too much time in the salon. I hate gaudy jewellery and too much flowery perfume. I hate fake women. Thankfully, Mr. Morgan hated all those things too.  
  


Mr. Morgan worked for Sonny Corinthos and they were powerful and intimidating and they even carried guns, which only made them cooler in my eyes. Mr. Morgan smelled of car grease and sweat, with a slight tang of soap. He was a man's man and I wanted to be just like him.   
  


Mr. Morgan worked on his motorcycle down in the garage. One time, while I waited for my dad to bring me to my soccer game, he let me fiddle around with a wrench and even commended me for a job well done. I took me greasy palm and wiped it across the front of my t-shirt just like I saw him do countless times. Dad and Mr. Morgan laughed at that, but when I got home Mom nearly fainted when I explained where the black fingerprints came from. She stormed away muttering something about thugs trying to get her baby and what the hell was she going to use to get the stains out of my uniform.   
  


Anyway, let me get to the good part of the story...  
  


It all started the night of my tenth birthday. Mom had taken me and my so called friends out to the local bowling alley. Bowling! Do you believe that? So what was a guy like me to do after having two hotdog, a large root beer and a stack of nachos and cheese? I didn't bowl, let me tell you that right now. What I did do--when mom was distracted cheering on my brat sister--was slipped out the front door and headed right back to our apartment.   
  


Flaunting my new double-digit status, I thought it only right I should be able to go where I wanted, do what I wanted, and especially, be able to play with my newly acquired toys. Our apartment was only a block away anyway. Only thing is, halfway to the elevator I got distracted.

I'd seen Mr. Morgan plenty of times around the building. Mom always shuffled me into her side and offered him a tight smile when he passed. She seemed afraid of him, though I'm not sure why. I'd seen him with Michael, a kid in second grade at my school, and he seemed perfectly fine. Then again, Janine, my Tuesday night babysitter who took care of me while my parents went to the local social club--where they got rip-roaring drunk I don't mind telling you--used to tell me Mr. Morgan sure had a nice package. I didn't know what she meant by that until years later because at the time I was confused and told her I didn't see him carrying anything. She laughed at that and called me 'precious' and that one day I would understand. Now that I do understand, I have to wonder if she indulged in the fifth of Jack Daniels my father used to hide in his study for 'special occasions'.   
  


And I digress...   
  


The main thing was, Mr. Morgan was always nice to me. He looked you in the eye when he spoke to you and my father used to always say 'a man that looks you in the eye shows his respect'. If a guy respects a little punk like me, he can't be too bad. So hey, I wasn't worried.  
  


Mr. Morgan looked like he'd been worked over pretty good. I'd seen him with the occasional scrap before, but nothing like this. He had a black eye and a long scratch down his cheek. When he walked it was slow, not the controlled, calm stride that he normally had. His persona had always exuded confidence, but he was distracted and pacing and it almost looked like he was shaking. So, of course, when he headed out the door and into the night, I almost didn't have a choice but to follow him.   
  


I trailed after him a safe enough distance away so he wouldn't know I was there, but even from so far back, I could tell his fists were clenching and unclenching and I wondered what had happened to make him so angry.   
  


When he rounded the corner and headed for the docks, I hesitated a minute. I was not supposed to go to the docks and especially not alone at night following Mr. Morgan nonetheless, but pushing down the guilt I plodded along after him anyway.  
  


By the time I got to the docks he was already talking to a man. The guy was tall, with very dark hair and a beard that chased down his neck. His clothes were even blacker than his hair and he almost faded into the night because of it. The guy wore a perpetual scowl that sent shivers down my spine. I told myself I wasn't scared and tried to believe it. I decided to nickname him 'Mr. Dark'. I could already tell Mr. Morgan didn't like the man. His voice rose and he wanted to know where 'She' was. I'm not sure who 'she' was. Mr. Morgan didn't have a wife that I knew of or even a girlfriend. Crouching down, I hid behind some crates and strained my ears to listen.   
  


Seemingly fed up Mr. Dark called over some goons and had them hold Mr. Morgan by the arms so he was defenceless. Pulling out a large blade, Mr. Dark ran it smoothly over Mr. Morgan's cheek. Pulling his other hand up, Mr. Dark slapped the other side of Mr. Morgan's face. 'How would you like matching scars on your pretty little face?' he said, sneering.   
  


Mr. Morgan was quiet for a long time before asking again about the unnamed 'she'.  
  


Mr. Dark took a deep breath and let it out slowly. I watched as his ribs lifted and fell underneath his expensive suit. It was only a breath, but it was a frightening whistle of air that made me shiver in the hot August night.   
  


'I'm losing my patience,' he said and drove the knife into Mr. Morgan's side with an audible grunt. Whoa, he went from 'Mr. Dark' to 'Mr. Dark-and-scary' with that move. I tried not to scream or run, even though my leg was thundering against the ground with shakes and my lips twitched something fierce.  
  


'Tell me where she is and you'll get what you want', Mr. Morgan said between panting breaths. I had to close my eyes. The stream of blood was slowly trickling from his side and coating his jeans and then the wooden planks under his booted feet. From the expression on his face, he could care less about the pain, all he wanted to know was where 'she' was.  
  


'Are you going to give me what I want now?' I heard Mr. Dark-and-scary say.   
  


Mr. Morgan was wheezing when he spoke and I felt the tears collect in my eyes because I thought this was the end. I could feel something bad about to happen. 'You'll kill her. I want proof. Proof that she's alive and that you haven't hurt her.'  
  


'You don't seem to understand. You're not the one making the rules. I am. She's okay. She's fine and I'll release her once you give me the territory.'  
  


Mr. Morgan looked pained. He closed his eyes tight and his jaw pulled tense. 'It's not mine to give. If it was...if it was, you'd have it by now. Please-"  
  


'Please?' Mr. Dark-and-scary laughed. "Please, huh? Morgan, why do you even care? She's nothing to you. She hates you. She's told you that herself. She's even told me.'  
  


'I-I...' Mr. Morgan was swaying on his feet and he looked really white. I could feel my heart beat faster and I don't mind saying I started to cry quietly.  
  


'What? Love her? Is that what you're trying to say? You threw her away, let her get mixed up in this life and now you love her? Do you think when this is all over, she'll go willingly into your open arms, embracing the very way of life that caused her to get in this predicament? Are you so disillusioned with your ideas of love to actually think that she'll love you back after you got her kidnapped? After you almost got her killed...although the clock is still ticking Morgan, she may very well be dead by the time you convince Corinthos that her life is worth something. We both know her life doesn't matter to him. He'll see it as the greater good. Sacrifice one to save his family.' Mr. Dark-and-scary smiled smugly.  
  


Mr. Morgan, who'd had control on his temper up to this point broke apart from the men at his sides, lunged and met the blade of the knife once again. This time his thigh was stuck and he went down on his knee hard. Mr. Dark-and-scary pulled the knife out and threw it, blade side down, so it stuck into the plank beside Mr. Morgan. With a final shove that sent him forward, Mr. Dark-and-scary called to his men and they left the docks.  
  


It took a few minutes for my heart to stop pounding quiet enough so that I could hear over it. Once I was sure the men were gone, I ran to Mr. Morgan's side, not much thinking about anything else.  
  


I slipped on some of the blood in my hasty race to get to him and it was his steady hands that stopped me from falling. I'm not sure he recognized me right away, his eyes were glazed and suddenly I wasn't so ashamed of my tears anymore.   
  


Letting out a strangled cough, he told me I shouldn't be down here, it wasn't safe and my mom would be worried.  
  


I told him my mom wouldn't know I was missing and I was supposed to be at the bowling alley for my birthday party. I told him we had to call an ambulance and that I'd never seen that much blood in my life. He looked panicked and then he gripped my shoulder and levered himself up slowly so he stood on unsteady feet.  
  


'I can't call an ambulance. I'll be alright,' he said and leaned heavily on my shoulder when he teetered.   
  


I begged him again and told him he needed help. He smiled sadly and told me he didn't care what happened to him, but that he needed to get back to his place and could I help him get there. I agreed, of course, and he leaned on me as we walked up the stairs. I asked him all sorts of questions, most he didn't really answer and just sort of grunted or nodded his head. I wasn't sure he was going to be alright until I brought up the elusive 'she' they had been talking about and he seemed to perk up at that.  
  


'I screwed up, kid,' he said and stopped altogether, breathing hard and I could see the tears collect in his eyes once again. He wiped a hand down his face and leaned over, gripping his side. 

'I've made a lot of mistakes,' he said so quietly I almost didn't hear him.  
  


'I do too,' I admitted, 'but you can fix it, if you try hard enough.'  
  


Something about that struck him funny, and I found it an odd time to be laughing. Only when I listened harder, I realized it wasn't because it was funny. 'Try,' he breathed, shutting his eyes and gritting his teeth.   
  


'Yeah, if you want to fix something you just have to try to make it better. You can't just wait and see what happens.'  
  


'You're a smart kid.'  
  


'Thanks,' I said, taking it as a compliment and helping him along again.  
  


When we got to the elevator, he leaned against the back panel and I pushed the button for the penthouse. Mr. Morgan wasn't looking so good, I was afraid he might not make it.   
  


When we got to his door, he tried to open it but kept missing the lock because his fingers were so shaky. I finally took the key from him and opened it. He settled down on the couch with a loud thump and put his face in his hands. Without looking up he directed me to the phone and told me to call the first number in the phone book and ask for Bobbie. I did it and was surprised to hear a woman answer to that name. I told her about Mr. Morgan being hurt and that she needed to come over. She agreed and hung up the phone. I could tell she was worried. She sounded the same way mom did whenever I scraped my knees or elbows.  
  


When I looked back at Mr. Morgan his eyes were closed and I thought he was sleeping so I walked over and sat on the coffee table looking at him. I guess he sensed I was there because he opened one eye. 'You did good kid. How long until your mom notices you're gone?'  
  


'Probably a long time,' I told him, 'she loves to bowl.'  
  


'Kid, I'm sorry you had to see this. Thanks for helping me. Here.' He reached into his pocket and pulled out a fat wad of bills then handed them all to me. He looked really sad when he spoke again. 'I got blood on your shirt, kid. You're going to have to throw it away so no one sees. I know you're not supposed to lie, but you can't tell anyone what you saw tonight, okay?'

I nodded my agreement.   
  


'You saw a lot of things you shouldn't of and I'm sorry about that. Couldn't have been a good birthday for you.' He looked regretful when he said that, real low and sad like.  
  


'Nah, I ain't never seen a guy get stabbed before. I'm sorry it was you.' I said that cause I meant it.  
  


'Me too, kid.' I liked how he called me kid. It wasn't to be condescending because he thought I was too young to understand, it was an endearment like pal or buddy and he said it like I really did do him a favour, so it didn't bother me one bit.   
  


'You go on home now and clean up. I-I'll see you around.' He grabbed his side then and twisted in pain. I didn't want to leave, but I knew he really meant what he said and that I would see him around. 'I'm sorry you were scared, kid. Happy birthday.' he said just before I reached the door and when I turned around again his eyes were closed.  
  


---

Another week went by before Mr. Morgan came out again. From the lobby I watched the red-headed doctor-lady that I assumed was Bobbie come and go. She carried one of those black bags that held things like gauze and ointment and disinfectant that made your skin sting, but if your mom blew on it, it didn't hurt as bad. I wondered who was there to take the sting away for Mr. Morgan.  
  


He looked a lot better than he did that night. The bruise was lifted from his eye and his cheek was scabbing over, he was still white though and dark circles were faintly marking his eyes.  
  


'Hey Mr. Morgan,' I said.  
  


'Hey kid,' he replied.  
  


'You doin' okay?'  
  


'Better than I was. Everything go okay with your mom?'  
  


'Yeah, no one even knew I was missin'. Are you going to find that man?'  
  


He bowed his head and rubbed his jaw. 'Nah kid, he's-he's gone far away from here for now. Don't know when he'll be back.'  
  


'Did ya fix your mistake?'  
  


Mr. Morgan's eyes went wide for that one. 'I wish I had. I wish I could right now. I-I don't know how to.' As if just remembering me standing there, he gave a faint smile. 'I'm really working on it though, kid.'  
  


Mr. Morgan left then and I waved bye, staring after him for a long time.   
  


That night my mom came up with the brilliant idea to go bowling again. Did I mention how much I hate bowling?   
  


So, as my family started in on the third frame I knew I had a lot of time on my hands, because once they start, they can go a couple of hours without noticing anything but the game at hand. Of course, as soon as they were distracted enough, I snuck out.   
  


I don't know why I did it, but I went back down to the docks. I don't know what I expected to find, but it wasn't Mr. Dark-and-scary pushing a brown-haired woman tied at the wrists onto a bench that I had envisioned.

I crouched down in the same spot as last time and watched as Mr. Dark-and-scary paced the docks with a cell phone to his ear. I was too far away to hear what he was saying, but I heard Mr. Morgan and another man's name mentioned.   
  


I could hear the woman crying softly and tried to get a better look, but in my clumsiness I knocked into one of the crates. The woman's head shot up and she caught my eye. Mr. Dark-and-scary turned and the woman stood, blocking his view.  
  


'What the hell was that? Morgan better not be trying anything.'  
  


'He wouldn't. It was just a cat, I saw it, ' she said and she must have sounded convincing because Mr. Dark-and-scary turned around again.  
  


I stood slowly and began my retreat and the woman smiled at me and gave a tearful wink. That's when I changed my mind. I kneeled down and tried to control my breathing.  
  


I noticed something shiny in her hand. It was red. She turned it over in her palm and it shimmered against the water. Straining my eyes, I realized it was a circular piece of glass. Red glass and smooth.  
  


Mr. Dark-and-scary was looking at her again and I held my breath for a full minute. I really thought he was going to do something to her right then. Instead he snapped the phone shut and turned back around signalling to the boat captain of his big yacht. This time when he turned, the woman dropped the glass under the bench and tucked it under with her feet, which I realized were also tied.   
  


I waited a whole ten minutes after they left before I walked over to the bench and scooped up the glass. I never ran so fast in my entire life as I did that night. I don't think I cared if I got grounded for life or if I sprained something on the way. All I knew was that I had to get to Mr. Morgan and I had to get there quick.   
  


I rubbed the glass in my palm and though one side was smooth, it wasn't until I picked it up that I realized the other side was rough and indented. I dug my fingers into the grooves over and over again as I ran, it somehow gave me strength and I made it to Mr. Morgan's apartment in no time flat.  
  


I pounded on the door and didn't even realize he opened it until I swung my fist and came up with air. I jolted forward but Mr. Morgan caught me. The glass flew from my hand and skidded across the floor landing under the couch. He followed the movement and I was too winded to get anything out, all I could do was point and gasp.   
  


His big hands were too large to fit under the couch and he scraped his knuckles trying. I tried myself but my arms were too short to reach and I couldn't calm my breathing enough to stretch out any farther. Finally to both our relief Mr. Morgan lifted up the couch and I dove under to grab the glass while he held it up. Letting the couch down slowly, he sat me down and came beside me.   
  


'The sca-ry...man in da-rk... at docks...wi-th girl...dro-pp-ed this..." I panted and put the glass in his calloused hand.  
  


Mr. Morgan stared at that piece of glass like it was going to shatter before he flipped it over and ran his long fingers over the writing. 'Elizabeth...' he choked out, trying to rein in his emotions. 'How...why.. Christ,' he swore and gripped the glass tightly in a fist. 'All this time... right under our nose... that bastard!'  
  


'Mr. Morgan,' I said shakily. The adrenaline was wearing off and my body wasn't reacting well.  
  


"I'm sorry, kid. I'm sorry,' he said and went to another room.   
  


When he came back he handed me a glass of water and wiped my forehead and neck with a damp towel.   
  


'You don't know what this means,' he started then stopped. 'I've been looking everywhere and all this time... You did good kid, real good,' He said and pulled me into his arms.   
  


It was a weird sensation to have rough and intimidating Mr. Morgan being so grateful and giving me a hug. That sold me right there. If I ever wanted to be like Mr. Morgan this was darn near guaranteeing it.  
  


He left that night. Told me not to tell anyone where he'd gone and especially not to mention the red glass, even to Mr. Corinthos--Michael's dad--who lived across from him. I told him I could do that and I hoped when he tried he could fix his mistake. He told me he hoped so too.   
  


--

It was two days later when I watched from my window as Mr. Morgan carried the brown haired lady out of a limo and into our building. I was going to rush out and say hi, but they both still looked really sad and I wasn't sure if Mr. Morgan had fixed his mistake yet. I wanted to give him time to do that first.  
  


I don't know where they had been or why it had taken so long and I never asked. I don't think they wanted to talk about it and I just couldn't ask.  
  


So I waited patiently until Mr. Morgan sought me out and brought me back to his penthouse with my mom's reluctant permission.  
  


He led me to a closed door and told me that 'Elizabeth' might be sleeping, but she really wanted to see me. I wanted to see her too and I told him so. Mr. Morgan smiled at that and opened the door.  
  


I stood in the archway as the light from the hall just barely got to Elizabeth form her place on the bed.  
  


'Don't be shy,' she said and moved her pillows a little so she could see me better.  
  


I edged my way in with Mr. Morgan behind me. He moved around me and sat down at the bottom of the bed.  
  


'That was real smart of you to write on that glass,' I told her, glad she was finally feeling well enough for a visitor.   
  


She smiled and sat up in bed, motioning for me to join her. I crawled over the comforter and into her open arms. She felt warm and smelled like summer strawberries. I could have spent the entire day in her arms. 'Thank you,' she said kissing the top of my hair and smoothing her delicate looking fingers into it. 'You saved my life,' she whispered.  
  


'No I didn't,' I protested softly, 'Mr. Morgan did.'  
  


'Mr. Morgan.' she laughed and her eyes flickered to him. He shrugged his shoulders and gave her a warm smile. 'You're a brave little boy, you know that?'  
  


'I guess,' I said feeling my face and ears heat up.  
  


She tilted her head to the side and moulded her hand to my cheek. I could see tears in her eyes. I turned slightly to face Mr. Morgan.   
  


'Did you try to fix your mistake?'  
  


Mr. Morgan cleared his throat and scratched the back of his head and then he nodded slowly.   
  


'Did it work?' I asked.  
  


It was Elizabeth that answered. She reached out and took Mr. Morgan's hand. 'Yeah, it worked.'  
  


They seemed to forget I was in the room because Mr. Morgan brought her hand to his lips and gave her a soft kiss and she did the same to his palm. Then they just kind of looked at each other the way grown-ups do sometimes. I never felt so happy to see grown-ups do that in my life and I never saw Mr. Morgan smile that big either.   
  


I decided to make myself at home and since Elizabeth was so nice and warm, I cuddled in next to her clumsily touching the curls of her hair with chubby kid fingers. 'That man on that docks said Mr. Morgan loved you, but you'd never love him back, is that true?'  
  


It took a long time before she spoke and I realized that Mr. Morgan wasn't looking at her anymore. Instead, he was looking at the blankets on the bed and his cheeks seemed to be just as red as mine felt moments ago.   
  


Elizabeth gave me another kiss on the forehead before she answered. 'No, no, that man was wrong,' she said to me and then looked over at Mr. Morgan and waited until he was looking at her again. 'He was wrong,' she said and it sounded definite. Mr. Morgan smiled one of those big smiles again.   
  


We stayed like that until my mother came to the door. She was worried, she said because I'd been gone so long. None of us had paid attention to the clock. My mother walked off and told me if I wasn't home in five minutes she was going to send my father up. Even though I didn't really want to leave, I told her okay and went to say my goodbyes. Mr. Morgan went with me back to the bedroom Elizabeth was resting in.  
  


I gave her a hug and she told me to come by anytime I'd like and we could bake brownies or something. I thought that was just the best idea I'd ever heard. Elizabeth really was a smart one, brownies are my absolute favourite.   
  


Just as I was at the threshold Elizabeth called me back. 'Wait!'  
  


'Yeah?'  
  


'Jason didn't know your name and I don't think we should call you kid all the time,' she said smiling.  
  


'Who's Jason?' I asked naively.  
  


That smile broke into a full blown laughter and even Mr. Morgan let out a chuckle or two.   
  


'Jason is Mr. Morgan's first name,' she explained.  
  


'Oh,' I said. 'I don't mind being called kid, but my name's Jake.'  
  


'Jake!' They said in unison, seemingly shocked. Here I thought Jake was a pretty common name, but apparently they never heard it before. I got the feeling I was missing something.  
  


'Yeah. See ya tomorrow!' I said and ran out the room and headed for the elevators before my mom sent out a search party.  
  


---

Mr. Morgan got married today. I was there and I never saw two people so in love before. Makes me hopeful. Makes me think maybe one day I can find someone who I would risk getting hurt for and maybe I could meet someone clever enough to write on red glass with an artist knife to tell them where they were when evil men in suits captured them.  
  


Elizabeth gave me a sweet peck on my cheek just before she got into the limo on her way to their honeymoon. She still smells like summer strawberries and let me tell you I've never met anyone that makes brownies quite as good as hers. Yes, I definitely want to be like Mr. Morgan especially if that could get me a Mrs. Morgan like her.


End file.
